


The Day No Social Services Were Called

by Craftybadger1234



Series: Missing and odd moments: Second Year [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hogwarts Second Year, Missing Scene, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: Such a nosy neighborhood, and no one cared that there were bars on a bedroom window?





	The Day No Social Services Were Called

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CleopatraIsMyName for looking this over for me! :)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Ch 2: _The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on Harry’s window._

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Ch 3: _The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window._

\--------

Mrs Smith smiled down at her tomatoes, pleased to see the plants were flourishing with the new fertilizer. Suddenly, the gruff sound of her neighbor cut through the fence. Alarmed, Mrs Smith ducked down to avoid being seen. If there was anything that would ruin her day, it was a conversation with Vernon or Petunia Dursley.

“It’s taking an awfully long time to put those bars up,” Mr Dursley growled. “How long does it take to put in a few screws?”

“Eh, well, it really needs a bit of shoring up on this side,” came another voice. Mrs Smith dared a peak to see a man in coveralls up on the ladder. He was screwing bars onto a window on the upper floor of the house.

“Nonsense. Close enough is good enough. I’m not paying you for extra work!”

The man frowned, but then shrugged. He climbed down the ladder and began putting his tools away. “Whatcha need bars on a window for, anyway?” he asked.

Mr Dursley turned a dark purple, never a good sign, and shouted, “That is none of your business! I’ve paid your fee, now you can go!”

With a huff, the man hefted his ladder and toolbox and stomped around the house to his scruffy lorry in the drive.

Mrs Smith bit her lip nervously. The Dursley house had a layout that matched her own and she knew the back room was likely a bedroom for one of the two boys that lived there. Was it the runty little one that looked a little wild sometimes? Was he truly as dangerous as Petunia said?

Later that evening, she said to her husband, “Dear, don’t you think it odd the Dursleys have put bars on the window?”

“Eh? Bars? Where?”

“On the upper story. Just one window. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

Her husband peeked out the dining room window to see the bars for himself. “Yes, very odd. If you were afraid of burglary, wouldn’t you bar all the windows?”

“Do you - suppose - it might be for the boy?”

“What boy?”

“The younger boy. Erm,” Mrs Smith struggled to remember his name, “Harry. Petunia has said he’s a bit - unstable. Do you think he - he needs locking in?”

Mr Smith looked at her as though she’d grown a second head. “Surely not. If the boy were so dangerous, surely they’d have him committed somewhere.”

“Yes, but don’t you think - “ She licked her lips nervously, “Do you think, maybe, we should call the authorities about this? If they’re locking him up?”

Twisting his napkin in his hands, he said hesitantly, “Well… it’s, perhaps, none of our business. I mean… what will happen to the boy? Isn’t he better off with his family that can take care of him, rather than strangers in an institution?”

Mrs Smith cast one more look out the window and sighed, “I suppose.” But only if they’re taking care of him, she thought to herself.

Days later, Mrs Smith was woken in the night to the loud sound of tearing and crunching. A car made a loud screeching sound, amid the sound of yelling and cursing. It took her several moments to wake up enough to recognize the sounds of an emergency. Rushing to the back garden, she looked around frantically.

But all she saw was the Dursley family, all standing in the window with expressions ranging from dumbstruck to furious. The window with bars. But the bars were gone. And the smaller boy was nowhere to be found.

“Off to stay with a distant cousin on his father’s side,” Mrs Smith said to her husband that evening. “That’s what Petunia said about the boy.”

“Ah, see,” Mr Smith replied. “Off to stay with family. All must be well then!”


End file.
